


Where Stars Brush The Earth

by thesolemneyed



Category: SEVENTEEN (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Discussions of Death and Dying, Drabble, Gen, space
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-30
Updated: 2020-12-30
Packaged: 2021-03-11 05:07:44
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,759
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28419627
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thesolemneyed/pseuds/thesolemneyed
Summary: "But in a solitary life, there are rare moments when another soul dips near yours, as stars once a year brush the earth. Such a constellation was he to me.”-from Circe by Madeline Miller“But did you love him? The man from the stars?”Of course I did,Vernon thinks.How could anyone not?
Relationships: Chwe Hansol | Vernon/Xu Ming Hao | The8
Comments: 7
Kudos: 23
Collections: Seventeen Holidays





	Where Stars Brush The Earth

**Author's Note:**

> This is a submission for the 17Hols fest, but my character count was too high so I had to post here instead!

“Did you, Granddad?”

Vernon looks up, his mind coming back from far away. “Hmm?” 

“Did you _love_ him?” His granddaughter’s eyes are bright. She adores this story. He’s told it to her many, many times and, although she is now a woman grown, with a man to love of her own, she still sits at his feet and begs for it one more time.

Humming again, Vernon looks back into the fire. “I loved your Grandmother.” This isn’t a lie. His late wife had been a gem of a woman; kind, sturdy, loving. He’d worshiped and adored her, and when had she passed ten years ago, the pain he’d felt had been very real. 

His granddaughter rolls her eyes a little, moving one cheek to rest on the hand his knee. “Of course you loved Granny,” she sighs a little, Vernon knows she still misses her. “But did you love _him_? The man from the stars?”

 _Of course I did,_ Vernon thinks. _How could anyone not?_

It was almost eighty years ago, when Vernon’s feet had been surer and his hands steadier; his hair had not been grey, but his smile had been just as warm. 

The grass tickled the back of his neck where it had pushed past his hands pillowing the back of his head. His cheeks felt cold where the evening sun had recently left its kiss. His chest felt light in a way only possible with the absence of school and of work.

The coming autumn, he was to start at his uncle’s small post office in town, taking on one of the postal routes in the morning and then working as a clerk behind the scenes for the rest of the day. He wasn’t joining his older friends in the city where they were having varying success finding work and lives for themselves. His parents couldn’t afford the costly downpayment that city rent demanded and Vernon had settled into his expectations of a smaller life.

But, for the meanwhile, the air was warm, the summer was long, his days were free, and life was much too short to spend worrying about the future. 

A shadow fell across his face and he lifted his head, expecting Chan or Seungkwan. 

Instead, a stranger was staring down at him, and he lifted himself off the ground a little more, blinking his eyes to chase away the cobwebs of drowsiness. 

“Were you sleeping?” The man’s voice was soft with a lilt that Vernon couldn’t quite place.

He sat up straighter, shaking his head. “Not at all.” His voice creaked a little from sleep and he cleared his throat. “How can I help you?”

Vernon began to stand, but the stranger flopped down next to him, leaning his forearms on his shins. “I don’t know that you can.” His voice was quiet. “I don’t know that anyone can.”

Perplexed, Vernon shifted to face the same direction as the stranger. “Well, how about your name?” He extended a hand to shake. “Vernon Choi.” 

The stranger nodded his head but didn’t seem to notice Vernon’s palm. “Nice to meet you, Vernon.” 

Silence fell between them as Vernon let his hand drop to the grass, leaning back on it. The man perplexed him, but not to the point of alarm. There was something comforting, something pleasing about the plains of his face, the tilt of his head. “Nice to meet you too.” He turned his face back to the last tendrils of the sun, blushing from behind the tallest hill. He could just about make the faint ghosts of the stars beginning to hang themselves in the dimming sky.

“I’m lost, Vernon.” The stranger’s voice was little more than a whisper. His head hung down a little between his knees and he was fiddling with the frayed cuff of one of his cuffs. 

Vernon frowned a little. “Where are you trying to go?” His parents had raised him to extend help to those who needed it and this man seemed to be in need. 

He received another head-shake in reply. “I am not quite sure.” 

“Okay,” Vernon sighed out a heavy breath, “and where have you come from?” 

He didn’t expect an answer and he didn’t receive one. The man threw himself back to watch the brightening stars, mirroring Vernon’s own posture just a few moments before. “I’m from a long way away, Vernon. I’m only here for a short time.” His eyes were closed, his long eyelashes making his eye sockets look hollow. 

Vernon lay down next to him, his elbow just touching the man’s ribs. “Where are you from?” 

Thinking the man is withholding his answer again, Vernon glanced over. He was pointing up into the sky, his other hand shielding his eyes. “Somewhere around there.” He waved the extended hand. “It’s hard to tell; you all keep moving.” 

Vernon considered that the man was clearly mad. And, yet, he still felt at ease. “That sure is long way to travel,” he laughed. “Aren’t you tired? Hungry?” 

The man beside him shook his head ardently. “I don’t think I can get hungry.” His hands were now resting on the grass, skating over the surface of the blades in a way which made Vernon’s palms tickle. 

Vernon got to his feet in a fluid motion. “Well, even if you can’t, I can.” Once again, he extended a hand.

Blinking up at him, the man tilted his head, not moving to take his hand. “It was nice to meet you, Vernon.” 

Vernon held his hand out more firmly. “I’m inviting you to come with me. Come have some food. Maybe it’ll help you remember where you’re going.” 

The man considered his hand for a while longer, almost until Vernon debated dropping his hand again. Before he could, however, he felt a warm palm in his own and shifted his weight to pull the man up. “Thank you, Vernon, that is very kind of you.” He made no effort to remove his hand so Vernon allowed it to remain. 

Leading the way, Vernon began up the small hill which lead the way back to his parents house. He tried to think of what he would say to them, but he knew they would offer a warm welcome as they always did. 

The man’s steps beside him were light, although he stumbled slightly once, his hand gripping tighter in Vernon’s as he struggled to stay upright. His eyes glowed happily as they met Vernon’s, laughing out an apology.

“I’ll need to tell my parents your name, by the way.” Vernon’s breath came a little short, although whether that was from the thumb absently skimming his wrist or from the walk he couldn’t tell. 

“I’ve a lot of names, Vernon.” That wasn’t really an answer and it didn’t help Vernon out terribly.

Vernon considered. “Which one do you like the best?” He could see his house now, a thin trickle of smoke rising from the chimney. 

The man swung their joined hands slightly. “I like all of them in different ways.” With effort, Vernon disguised a sigh as shortness of breath. “Give me a new one.” 

It was Vernon’s turn to falter this time, his feet, which knew every inch of this land, catching on what might have been a rabbit-hole. The hand is his was secure, though, and he didn’t fall.

Once steady again, he wracked his mind for his quickly slipping knowledge of characters from school. His house was much closer now; he could see his mother setting the table through the window, his father smoking a pipe in his chair by the fireplace. “What about Minghao?” He hoped he’d remembered the characters correctly. 

Minghao shrugged his shoulders a little. “I trust you, Vernon.” Vernon’s chest warmed. “If you think it is a good name, it is as good as any other.” 

They had reached the door and Vernon released his grip to push it open, the old latch loudly announcing their arrival. 

“You’re just in time for dinner,” his mother called, her voice ringing warmly through the house. 

Vernon gestured for Minghao to push off his shoes and follow him through to the kitchen. His mother’s face was glowing a little from being stood over the stove for so long, but the smell was homely and reminded Vernon of just how empty his stomach was. 

He kissed his mother on the cheek, squeezing her wrist comfortingly when she jumped at the sight of Minghao in the doorway. “Mother, this is Minghao. He’s one of Seungcheol’s friends visiting from the city and I was wondering if he could spend the night here?” 

He silently sent her a message of apology at the late notice, but his fears were quickly put to rest. “Check with your father first, but of course,” she exclaimed. “Go grab another plate.” She flapped her hands towards Vernon, spurring him into action as she turned back to the boiling pot. “I made way to much, as always.” Her laughter was bright and reverberated through the room.

Vernon smiled and pulled Minghao after him as he carried the plate and glass through to the front room. His father looked up from the fire at their entrance and stood, reaching to shake Minghao’s hand. “How do you do?” To Vernon’s relief Minghao did shake his father’s hand, although a little limply. “Always a pleasure to meet one of Vernon’s friends.” 

Minghao’s eyebrows drew together. “We are not friends, Mr Choi. I only met Vernon today.” He pulled his hand back again and stood examining the small clock on the fireplace. 

“Minghao is one of Seungcheol’s friends,” he explained to his father, who only looked bemused at the odd interaction. “He’s asked if he can stay here, just for tonight.” 

Vernon’s father nodded. “Any friend of Seungcheol’s is a friend of ours.” He gestured to the newly established seat at the table. “Do sit down, Minghao.”

They were just settled as Vernon’s mother brought through the heavy dish. “I do hope hotpot is okay, Minghao.” She set it on the table and began to serve generous portions. “We weren’t expecting guests.” 

Minghao bowed his head a little. “I was not expecting any food, Mrs Choi, and I do not get hungry. Whatever you are eating I am sure will be pleasing to me.” 

If this response confused Vernon’s mother, she did not show it and simply took her place at the table. 

“So, Minghao,” Vernon’s father leaned forward a little. “How do you know Seungcheol?” 

Minghao swallowed his mouthful, but Vernon cut in before he could open his mouth. “They met at an art gallery, I believe. Minghao is a curator.” He prayed Minghao could read the silent pleas in his eyes.

“I do like art.” Minghao conceded with a small nod. “I like everything that is beautiful.” His gaze was very steady on Vernon’s face and Vernon ducked his face a little into his bowl. 

“And where are you from?” Vernon could see that his mother had already fully opened her heart to Minghao, the way she did to all of his friends. Her eyes were drinking him in, delighting in his apparent approval of her meal. 

Minghao considered. “I am from very far away, Mrs Choi.”

“China,” Vernon chimed in again. “He’s from China.” 

Vernon’s mother seemed delighted. “Then I am so glad we happened to have hotpot tonight.” She beamed at Minghao. “It must remind you of home.

Minghao made a noncommittal noise but, before Vernon could succumb to panic, his father plagued Minghao with a barrage of questions about life in China which, surprisingly, he answered without apprehension. 

When their bowls were empty, Vernon’s mother chimed in. “I think that’s quite enough, my dear.” She twinkled at Vernon’s father across the table. “Minghao must be tired after his long journey.” 

“Not at all, Mrs Choi, I should like to go for a walk now, actually.” Minghao was already rising from the table. He paused in the door to offer a short bow to Vernon’s parents. “Thank you for your hospitality. I have felt most welcome.” 

Vernon shot up to follow him. “Forgive me,” he pecked his mother on the cheek, “Seungcheol said his friend was a little peculiar. We shall use the back door when we come back so don’t wait up.” He hurried across the room and out of the front door, hesitating hardly a moment to snatch his coat. 

“Minghao, wait.” The air outside was already considerably crisper than before, but it didn’t seem to bother Minghao any. “May I come with you?” 

Minghao slowed his stride. “You are already with me, Vernon.”

Vernon’s laugh became a cloud of mist in front of them. “Okay, may I continue walking with you a while? We don’t want you becoming more lost than before?” 

“I would like it if you did.” There seemed to a hint of a smile to Minghao’s voice, smoothing the edges. “I would like it if you showed me somewhere special.” 

“Somewhere special?” Vernon’s village was tiny, only notable for its excellent postal service and prize winning cows. “I don’t think there’s anywhere special anywhere near here.” 

Minghao’s pace slowed even further. “Somewhere special to you, Vernon. You are what makes a place special.” 

Emboldened by these words and the seed planting itself in his chest, Vernon grasped Minghao’s hand once again. “Okay, then. But you must promise not to be disappointed.” 

They walked briskly, their breathing the only sound other than the gentle wind. Vernon stole quick glances at Minghao, more often than not catching him looking unguardedly back at him. 

They reach the small graveyard quickly and Vernon contemplated briefly the morbidity of this being somewhere considered ‘special’ to him. It was too late to turn back, though as Minghao strode through the low gate. “My whole family is buried here.” His voice won’t come at more than a murmur. “I will be too, some day.” He shrugged, feeling embarrassment sneak around his ankles. “I just think it’s peaceful here.”

Minghao was wandering among the headstones, carefully reading each name. “You are not afraid to die?” He doesn’t look up as he enters the next row. 

Following, Vernon pondered the question. “Being afraid isn’t going to make it any less likely to happen.” Minghao didn’t slow, but Vernon got the impression he is still listening. “I’m scared of lots of things, but I have more control over more of them than dying.” 

Minghao paused then, his eyes tracing over Vernon’s face. “What are you afraid of?” 

Vernon overtook him, ambling down the narrow aisle. “Living. Not living. Failing.” He shrugged. “My life feels very small here sometimes.” 

“How can a life be small?” Minghao was no longer reading the headstones, having come to a halt in front of Vernon. 

Typically, Vernon would shift away from a question like this, but something in Minghao’s tone, free of judgement, made him try to mould shapeless thoughts. “All my friends have gone off into the city to live their lives. Except Seungkwan and Chan, but they’ll both be gone by next year as well.” He moved, guiding Minghao to a small mound nearer the church where they could settle. “They write telling me stories about the things they are seeing, the people they are meeting, and I don’t begrudge them any of that. I am so glad they are happy.” Vernon sighed. “But I have grown up here, I’ll live my whole life here, and I expect I’ll die here.” 

Minghao looked perplexed still. “But how does that make your life small? Does it not still hold the same value?” He was studying Vernon, as if he saw something there worth knowing.

“I suppose it does,” Vernon admitted. “But it feels like I am losing ground on them. Like they’re discovering things and I’m only revisting them.” 

“You are very young, Vernon.” Minghao’s voice was low, serious. “You are very young and soon you will learn that there is as much that is worth discovering in one person as there is in the rest of the world.” The words stirred something lonely, something hollow in Vernon’s chest, and he blinked heavily. 

Turning his face away, Vernon asked, “What about you?” Minghao tips his head. “Have you worked out where you are going yet?” 

Minghao pressed his lips together. “I do not think I am supposed to know where I am going. But I know now where I am meant to be, at least for the moment.” He smiled at Vernon. 

Looking to escape the embers dancing in his chest, Vernon jerked his chin up towards the night sky. “Where did you say you are from again?” 

Minghao peered upwards, studying the stars before leaning in to point for Vernon. “You see that very bright one? There?” Vernon nodded, Minghao’s cheek blazing warm beside his own. “That is my brother, my twin in many ways. He burns a lot hotter than me, is a lot easier to see, but I’m always near him.” He turned his face to look into Vernon’s eyes. Vernon’s neck tickled with his sweet breath. “You will be able to find me there, when you need me.” 

Vernon’s mind was blank, floating beautifully. He said nothing, looking into Minghao’s calm eyes. He nodded, ever so slightly and a shiver ran through him. It was cold and, although it didn’t bother Minghao, his fingers were beginning to numb against the hard ground. “We should get back.” His voice was husky. 

Rising to his feet, Minghao held out a steady hand to help Vernon up. Using the excuse of chill, Vernon once again twined their fingers together, slowly picking his way through the dark graveyard. 

The stars watched their lazy journey home, benevolent observers of the way Vernon held Minghao tighter every corner they turned until they came to the now dark house.

They tiptoed through the silent rooms, leaving their shoes by the cooling fire before quietly making their way up the stairs. 

Outside the guest room, Vernon turned to Minghao. “Towels and everything you need should be in there. The bathroom is right next door and I’m just up this flight of stairs if you need anything.” He kept his voice low so as not to wake his parents. “Good night, Minghao.”

Minghao, however, didn’t turn to leave. “I do not need to sleep, Vernon.” His eyes didn’t look as heavy as Vernon’s felt; his shoulders carrying none of the weight of the day. “May I sit in your room a while? Until you fall asleep?” 

For the first time, Minghao seemed unsure of himself and Vernon rushed to fill the space left by this hesitation. “Of course, I forgot.” He gently pushed Minghao towards the bottom of the staircase. “I’m just going to wash up and then I’ll come and join you. Make yourself at home.” 

Before he could curse himself for his foolish eagerness, he hurried into the bathroom, locking the door tightly behind him. He washed quickly, avoiding his own gaze in the mirror, his ears hot.

Climbing the stairs, he refused to consider the possibility of a mistake; the possibility that Minghao was dangerous, that he was delusional. Instead, he focused on Minghao’s thoughtful gaze, his careful responses to Vernon’s anxieties. If he was mad, he at least wasn’t a threat. 

Reaching his room, he knocked lightly and, at Minghao’s soft answer, pushed open the door. Minghao was at the window, once again quietly watching the stars overhead, head tilted as if listening to a hushed conversation coming from the other room. 

Vernon silently crossed to the bed, climbing in in his clothes to avoid reconsidering. “Are you sure you’re not tired, Minghao?” 

“I am not.” Minghao turned away from the window, his eyes far away. “But I do not want to disturb you. I can leave if you wish.” 

Vernon shifted in his bed. “No, not at all.” He hesitated, unsure. “Would you like to sit?” 

Minghao smiled. “That would be nice.” He gently settled himself so he was leaning against the headboard, gazing down at Vernon. “Please, get some sleep.” 

Out of his depth, Vernon did his best to roll over. No longer facing Minghao, he felt less as though his eyes were burning behind his eyelids, but sleep still felt far away as Minghao’s foot pressed against the back of his thigh. 

“Would you like me to sing to you?” Minghao suggested, as though men fully grown often have to be sung to sleep. But Vernon was too weary to protest, tired to evading the comfort of rest. He nodded mutely against the pillow and rolled back to face Minghao.

Minghao’s voice was high and sweet; the tune not anything Vernon recognised. It felt shapeless, boundless and morphed into a comforting shape around him. 

He meant to ask if Minghao would be there when he woke up, but sleep claimed him before he got the chance. 

When he awoke in the morning, the stretch of bed beside him seemed cold, empty. His fuzzy mind took a while to piece together why. Jolting from his bed, he clambered downstairs, shoving his way into the guest bedroom. He was unsurprised to find it empty, the bed still perfectly made up, the towels still in place.

“You’re friend left early,” His mother commented from downstairs. “Did you manage to see him off okay?” 

Vernon called out a vague reply, dragging his heavy body back up to his room. He sank once again into his cool bed, his sheets smelling faintly of grassy hillocks.

When next he looked up at the sky, he found the bright star that Minghao had pointed out, twinkling formidably in its spot in the sky. And, sure enough, next to it, flickering more shyly, a twin star that Vernon couldn’t say for certain had been there before.

Vernon’s head jolts up as he hears his daughter murmuring lowly in the doorway. She’s talking to his granddaughter, holding her close, and Vernon realises he’s slipped away again. He is doing that a lot recently, something he’s seen noted in the careful eyes of the nurses around him. 

He is not afraid, though, hasn’t been for many years. He knows that he is where he needs to be and trusts he will go where he wants. He smiles up at his daughter and she returns it, letting a tear fall into her own daughter’s thick hair. 

He’s sinking again before he can talk to her, though, songs from years ago wrapping like bandages around his heart.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading! I hope you enjoyed! Come hang out with me on twitter (@thesolemneyed)! xx


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